Doing the same thing, over and Over
by Jrmungandr
Summary: Vaas is back. After surviving being stabbed, does he still have as much control over Rook Island as he used to? Is he strong enough to lead, or still weak from injuries?
1. The Meeting

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." E. A. Poe

**Bangkok **

11:56 pm

Three Marines on leave and three American civilians enter a club looking for a little fun. They get a little fucked up. They meet a DJ who says he knows a place 'where anything can happen'. The seven tourists agree, eagerly.

2:13 am

They find a man who will take them to an island nearby, but no closer. They plan to swim the rest of the way.

6:30 am

Their voyage begins.

8: 06 am

They make it to the smaller island and begin to swim.

**Rook Island **

9:56 am

Safely on the beach, the group collectively collapses. "FUCK. We almost didn't make it. Whose fuckin' idea was that?" Said the eldest man, Carl, while gasping for air. He kicked the leg of the youngest, Drew, but Drew could only smile and pant as he lay on his back. "That was a warm up, civie. Right Marines?" He turned his head to his three comrades who were similarly exhausted. They all bellowed, "OOH-RAH," and got up.

Carl and Drew had been brothers since birth, but couldn't be more different. While Carl was content with underachieving, his little brother had bigger plans for himself. The only reason Drew was here instead of back on base making himself useful is because he was forced to take leave. Worked too hard. So he brought a few friends to vacation in the South-eastern hemisphere for some adventure and relaxation.

There was Keoni, his childhood friend, and Keoni's date Angela. Keoni was born in Hawaii but had moved to California when he was little. He met Drew when he tried to steal Keoni's pencil case. Angela, his date, had only been around for a few months, but Drew didn't like the girl his childhood friend had chosen. They often joked it was because he was jealous. Carl was allowed to bring one friend, so he brought Trey. Of all people. Finally, Drew and Keoni invited the only person who had come close to matching their intense friendship, Ruth. They met her in BCT and ever since the three of them had been inseparable.

They also felt a little bad for Ruth because she'd just come back from a tour in Afghanistan with night terrors. Ruth had seen her battle-buddy get IED'd, take the brunt of the explosion, and got away with only a few scars...

"The Doc said I was lucky..."

Was all Ruth said for three weeks. PTSD. It was hard for her to do anything but work.

That had been six months ago, and Ruth was all set for her second tour already. Drew managed to convince her to come along. So far it was okay. Ruth was smiling. It was like nothing had happened.

* * *

Drew and Keoni set up a bonfire by the shore and watched Angela collect seashells. Carl and Trey lit up. Ruth pulled out of the bag she'd carried here another bag made of plastic and arduously set to unwrapping it's contents, half of their electronics. The other half was with Drew. She pulled out Carl's camcorder. "Jesus, what a relic." She laughed, showing Keoni who whooped in surprise, "What the hell is that a dinosaur?" Ruth laughed and, out of curiosity, flipped open the screen. She found the power button after a brief search and laughed when the first thing she saw was Angela, from a worm's eye view, at the club. Keoni snatched the camcorder away, "AYE!"

Carl smirked. Keoni got over it pretty quick when he pressed play on a video and saw how all of them were dancing. He started to cackle. Everyone huddled around for a better view.

From left to right, Carl was doing something with his arms and neck that made him resemble an ostrich, while his friend Trey was awkwardly grinding on a larger girl and conducting a drug deal at the same moment. Ruth had killed one bottle of tequila and had smoked and popped her way to a state of ecstasy Drew called, "Ruthless". She was flirtatious, a gyrating machine, there was no stopping her. Drew was nearby, watching, leaning against the bar for support, kicking his feet every now and then like a river-dancer. Keoni laughed loudly at this, it was Drew's signature "fucked up" dance. Then finally, Keoni and Angela basically butt-fucking on the dance floor. The man holding the camera made a cameo, smiling a four tooth smile and jogging halfway out the door before the video caught him being apprehended by Trey and Carl.

Everyone was in stitches. For a moment, the laughter was so loud they couldn't even hear the shouting.

BANG!

Carl went face first into the fire, but not before spraying blood from the hole in his head all over the sand. Angela screamed, then Keoni, then Trey. Drew and Ruth could only gawp.

* * *

There was a whizzing sound that went past Ruth's head and hit the water far away. Her stomach dropped. She hadn't even heard the first bullet, so could it really be? No it had to be. Carl was definitely dead. Why am I just sitting here? She thought. Alright. Okay. Move.

"GET DOWN," Ruth shouted, but there was no cover from the hail of bullets raining on them. Somehow, in the chaos, she found Drew. They clasped hands and fled to the forest with the sounds of terrified screams behind them. They felt the adrenaline in their veins. It was uncomfortably similar to combat.

They didn't stop running until both of them felt like they were going to puke, and they might have too.

Drew put his hand against a tree and let himself sag. Ruth slid down to the ground and sat there.

"Oh god... I saw Angela... s-she got shot. Her shoulder was so FUCKED up. I-it's not like she was dead. She was just so fucked. I-I tried to pull her with me b-but ... she slipped. She fucking slipped. I... Keoni...Carl...Oh fuck... Oh my fucking god Carl..." Drew babbled, tears burst from his eyes. "CARL," he screamed, a primal scream, like an animal.

Ruth was externally more calm, but internally had relieved Afghanistan a thousand times in the last minute. She stared into the distance. They were quiet for a moment then, after Drew choked back his sobs. The jungle heat made the animals sing. They could hear everything from birds to boars. Finally, after it felt like it'd been several moments, Drew crawled over to Ruth. He pulled her out of her stiff position, like a Gumby doll, and kissed her softly.

"Just in case we die...I really fuckin' like you Ruth..." He whispered on her lips. Ruth came to after he held her in his arms for a while and buried her face in his chest.

* * *

They'd fallen asleep, but it was a fitful sleep. Ruth woke up with a jolt because she could hear something. Or the lack of it. It dug at her like nails in her heart to hear the jungle suddenly so quiet. "Get up." She pushed his chest. He reluctantly opened his eyes, clearly hoping it had all been a bad trip. No doubt that they both were suffering from the worst hangover in their short lives, but that was clearly the least of their troubles.

"There's nothing there," Drew began to say, seeing that Ruth was on edge. He was wrong.

In a circle, like a movie, were at least half a dozen men in red shirts holding machetes and assault rifles. They didn't look friendly. Drew reached Ruth slowly and felt his heart rise to his throat when he felt how rigid she was.

"Good horse," Said a man's voice. It was commanding, chilling to hear. Through the circle came a man, maybe in his late twenties, mohawk, huge scar on his head, riding on the back of a bent over Trey. There was a bridle in Trey's mouth and a saddle on his back. The man riding on his back paused for a painfully long moment, then dismounted. His eyes seemed more focused on Ruth than Drew.

"What are you looking at, chica?" He sauntered over, giving Drew enough time to see the look on Ruth's face. There was nothing in her eyes but anger. Ruthless anger. Drew had no idea what was going to happen, but he drew the conclusion that their life expectancy wasn't very long. He took Ruth's hand. It was ice cold.

"Not a talker. I like that. Mysterious." This is when the man noticed their hands clasped. He smirked. He made a glance at his men and then nodded to Drew. They raised their weapons and Drew's eyes shut tight.

"NO!" Bellowed the man. Drew opened his eyes. "When I nod I don't mean kill I mean take him away, FUCKING ASSHOLES. WE WE WANT THEM ALIVE. THEY'RE MONEY. I LIKE MONEY. DON'T SHOOT MY MONEY. Take him and put hi on his fucking knees so he can watch while I make love to his girl."

Drew was swarmed by hands and it didn't take much effort for them to pull him away, despite his protests. Six men held him in place while the man circled around Ruth like a shark. Ruth had remained like a statue this entire time. The man with the mohawk started by standing directly behind her, planting one foot between hers. He pulled the hair off of her neck and planted small, loving kisses from her shoulder up to her ear. He whispered, "You're mine now."

Next, while looking at Drew, he cupped her ass and slid his hand between her legs, feeling her through her pants. "Already wet?" He smirked. The man circled around and cupped her chin. "Pretty face, ugly scars." He pulled her close to him and lifted her mouth to his by cupping her ass again. He seemed to get a little too into it for a moment, his hands squeezing and lifting her higher.

SHINK!

The smooth sound of a switchblade sliding out of it's sheath interrupted the semi-silence. The man made a soft choking sound in his throat. Ruth had the blade firmly pressed against his abdomen, threatening to pierce him with the slightest movement. There was no way to pull the knife away like this, and Ruth knew that. The look in her eyes... The man stared into them.

"RUTH!" Drew blurted.

The man looked over and broke into a goofy smile, "RUTH? Baby Ruth?" He exploded into laughter that nearly cost him his life as the blade pressed harder. He turned to Ruth and looked between then, "Oh no, Ruth, I know your name but you don't know mine. This situation is very informal. I feel like you should know my name if you're gonna kill me. You can call me Vaas."


	2. Captured

**Bangkok**

3 months ago

It was Citra's knife. Citra's plan. But it was the tourist, Jason, who made the killing blow. Vaas didn't remember falling down, or Jason leaving him there. He only remembered... being consumed by hatred. Hatred for his sister and her toy that kept him alive. It must have.

That's the only reasonable conclusion, aside from being an invincible island god, Vaas could come to when he opened his eyes for the first time in weeks after dying. He felt a seering pain in his heart that pinned him on his back and made his voice weak. His words caught in his throat. Simply breathing caused him pain. His head was fuzzy. White noise most of the time. Every now and then, people whispering around him. It felt like it took him days to realize he wasn't dead, but just lying in a starchy bed surrounded by white walls.

"A fucking hospital..." He mumbled. His voice rasped, like he'd swallowed a handful of sand.

"Yes. You're in Bangkok, recovering from a very serious chest wound." Said a stern, monotonous voice.

Vaas felt tired. He didn't want to talk, but he didn't want to stay in a hospital either.

"Get me the f-...fuck out of here..." He tried to push himself up and collapsed.

"No. You're going to recover, and then you're going to be sent to prison."

The heart monitor that had been idly beeping somewhere next to Vaas spiked. "NO." Vaas roared, this time finding the energy to sit up straight.

"You have fight. Like a tiger. An old tiger." The doctor was in his late fifties, a native Thai, wearing very old wire framed glasses. "Just let it happen." With the lightest touch, the doctor pushed Vaas onto his back as easily as if he were an infant. "I'll be sending in the chief of police now, if you don't mind, he's been wanting to speak to you for a while."

Before the doctor could even finish exiting the doorway and shorter, much grizzlier looking man pushed through with a smirk on his face. He took a seat by Vaas and stared for a moment. "You're lucky to be alive... that's what I would say if the Interpol had been the one's to get you first. They're pretty mad. But, since we caught you here..."

Vaas wasn't sure if he wanted to puke or laugh or both. He settled with laugh. It came out as a hissing wheeze, which the policeman might have confused for illness if Vaas didn't wear his signature grin.

"You think this is funny?" In an effort to silence Vaas, the policeman punched his nose.

Vaas recoiled and tried to hold his nose, but discovered that his wrists were strapped to the bed. The warm blood began to flow freely down his mouth and the front of his gown, he couldn't feel the pain anymore. He smiled, a bloody smile.

The police man struck him a couple more times, once in the chest, that one actually hurt. When he was done the policeman grabbed Vaas by the head, "You'll be dog meat in prison. Your boss had a lot of enemies. He's dead, but they'll be happy to have you instead." Vaas head-butted him.

The policemann dramatically flung himself to the ground out of surprise and squealed in pain. It amused Vaas quite thoroughly when the nurses rushed in and pulled him out of the room before he could come kill Vaas.

"Byebye, come again." Vaas waved his hand and spit blood over the side of the bed when everyone was gone.

* * *

He was left alone for a long time after that, except for the nurses coming in to feed him, check his vitals, or some other minor task. They all remained silent to his comments, but every now and then he was able to get a glance.

It went on like this for a few more days until Vaas could sit up on his own. He was feeling stronger, more angry now. More eager to go home.

The doctor had been missing this entire time. When he walked into the room it was as if he'd just stepped out for a moment. "Already better? Good." He locked the door. The air was tense then. They both stared for a moment.

"I knew Volker," The doctor said at last. Vaas looked skeptical. "It's true. We did business, regularly."

He came and sat on the edge of the bed, "It doesn't need to be said what our arrangement was, because Volker is dead. Contract void."

"Why the fuck are you telling me this?" Vaas said, annoyed.

The doctor smiled. "Rook Island is falling into the Rakyats hands-"

"CITRA?! Fucking cunt! How long have I been dead?" Vaas winced a little when his chest muscles stretched tight as he sat forward too fast.

"You were stabbed more than four months ago." The doctor paused, "Since your disappearance and the death of Volkner, there has been no trade. I need the access to the plants on that island. They only grow there and they create powerful drugs."

Vaas laughed, "Trust me, I know." He reclined onto a few pillows meant to prop him up during the day time, "So, tell me if I'm hearing this right. You want me to go kill my sister, take my island back, and give you some herbs?"

The doctor nodded.

"What do I get?" Vaas knew what was going to happen next.

"I think you know that, Mr. Montenegro." The doctor stood up and hit him hard upside the head with a baseball bat.

Vaas blacked out instantly.

* * *

**Rook Island**

Current

Vaas kept one hand on Ruth's ass, holding them together hip-to-hip. With his other hand he slowly held it up for her to see he wasn't trying to pull a trick. "Let me show you something, Baby Ruth." Slowly, while watching Ruth's unflinching expression, he lifted his shirt up to his chin, displaying his chest.

"You see that scar over my heart, flaca? I'm already dead." He smirked, dropped his shirt, and put his hand back below her ass. Ruth seemed unchanged by this statement.

"Your boyfriend, he's dead too..." Vaas turned her attention to Drew, who had a gun pointed to his head and his hands tied behind his back. He sobbed under his breath. There was no way out of this. Drew knew. Vaas knew. Now Ruth knew too.

She threw the night onto the jungle floor. Brace for impact, she told herself as she closed her eyes. Whoever knocked her out, they knew what they were doing. She was unconscious before she even hit the ground.

* * *

**Vaas's Camp**

"Mi amor..." She heard a voice whispering softly in her ear. It gave her chills. "Flaca..." His voice. "RUTH!"

Drew sat across from her, wrists tied over his head. She could hear club music, quiet like it was far away. She tried to move her arms. They were tied above her as well.

She heard laughter, it sounded closer than the club music. Then she saw him. Sitting right next to her was Vaas. He was watching the video of Drew and the others at the club on Carl's bloodied camcorder.

"This is funny," He pointed out how Drew was dancing. "You're funny, man." He slapped the screen shut and got up with a grunt, walking over to a well-worn wooden table that sat by an open, bamboo framed window. They were in a hut or a shack, and it was night time. After digging through a burlap sack that sat on the table, Vaas produced two wallets.

"Drew aaaannd... "Baby" Ruth , Marines from California." He smiled to himself, despite the nagging feeling he had. "Well, I hope you have someone who really really loves you, because you two look very expensive... and that's good because I like expensive things..." Vaas turned his back on them. Deja vu.

He pounced on Drew, who'd been silently gagged. He looked Vaas right in the eye.

"That's right. I'm the one with the fucking dick. You're my bitch."

Vaas kicked Drew in the gut and stormed around, "I rule this fucking kingdom!" He sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck. Click. Like clockwork, his thoughts reminded him of the elephant in the room.

He looked over his shoulder. The girl, Ruth, was staring right fucking at him. "What? What is it Ruth? Have I failed to entertain you?" Vaas got in her face, prepared to make a big monologue, but the feeling went away. With clenched teeth and a tight lipped smile, Vaas got up and tried digging in the sack again for a clue as to what was missing. What was wrong? Something felt... misplaced. Or, maybe it was something else. He found the switchblade Ruth had tried to gut him with. Was it... that he didn't like torture any more?

Vaas took the knife over to Drew and stabbed him in the leg. Drew screamed through the gag and writhed under the blade. No. He still liked to torture people. Vaas tried it on Ruth as well, drawing an angry red-line below her collar bone. He smiled as he watched her bite the gag and arch her back.

Then what was it? He thought. Vaas felt like there was something important he had to do. It alluded him.

"I'll be back to play with you two fucks some more. Don't worry, we have all night," He threw the switchblade hard enough for it to stick in the wooden floor and made the guard flinch on the way out, "Everytime, man."


	3. Deja Vu

Vaas wasn't planning on returning for several hours. It wasn't like him to procrastinate on torture, but something about the situation was unfulfilling, something was missing and it was starting to piss him off. The thought stewed in his mind and by the time he found himself sitting down by a bonfire by himself he was in rage. His eyes searched for something or someone to break and drifted to the folding chair he was using. In one fluid and violent motion he ripped the chair out from under himself and began beating the ground with it. He didn't stop until it was destroyed and his hands had been cut. It had to be done, he told himself before noticing half the camp, standing at a safe distance, had showed up to see what was wrong.

He panted like a wild animal from the exertion. With his blood still boiling he roared, "Well what are you fucks staring at?"

There was one place he couldn't be disturbed with plenty of breakable things, so he turned on his heel and marched to his quarters. It wasn't a palace, but it was the nicest hut in the camp, one of the only buildings with a real door. When he made it inside, the anger seemed to quell. Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was the close proximity to his stash, either way, he felt better.

* * *

All too sudden for Vaas' liking, one of his own men came bursting in unannounced shouting about something. Vaas had been halfway asleep in a drug induced state and it took him several frustrating minutes to realize that his man was covered in blood, and had been trying to tell him that two of the captured marines had escaped and had weapons. Feeling the urgency now, Vaas stood up too quickly and stumbled, his head still spinning. "Fucking kill them then!" He roared and hastily pulled his shirt back on and grabbed his semi-automatic rifle.

He didn't hear anything else the man was trying to say, focusing instead on the sound of gunfire coming from the center of the camp. A fire had broken out somewhere on the border of the camp. Men were screaming. For a moment a face flashed in his mind, and he felt a mixture of anger and... something else. Ruth. He could feel it. She was loose and her friends were too.

Breaking out into a sprint, Vaas headed straight for the hut where he hoped he'd be wrong and find them still tied up. For the longest time, he came across no one that was still alive, the gunfire seeming to get farther and farther away until he saw a flash whiz by his head, and a deafening bang that followed.

There she was. Vaas was relieved for some reason. Ruth was a canvas of blood and fury, standing there with her hair let down and flying about her head like fire. Vaas couldn't even feel a breeze, just her burning gaze. They said nothing, but spoke with there eyes.

"So... you're here."

"I'm here."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"...Not today."

Vaas sensed her hesitation and pulled the trigger, the bullet flew and hit her arm before she could even react. He pulled the trigger again, and so did she. They both dove to the ground, Ruth shouting in pain, baring her teeth. It was just him and her in this moment of pure chaos. Vaas noticed every single detail about her as time slowed almost to a halt. He felt sober, seeing Ruth, the look in her eyes telling him this was to the death. She had nothing to lose. He got up and aimed for her head, intending to end her, before she ended him.

Click.

He'd forgotten to reload his rifle after shooting at things for the past three hours. Ruth saw her shot. She raised her weapon, gracefully Vaas thought, and aimed. It might have been a clean shot, right in his chest, if she hadn't been stopped. One of Vaas' came up behind her and knocked her unconscious with the butt of his gun.

Vaas stared, nonplussed, unable to hear anything but his racing thoughts. He didn't remember coming to her side, or picking her up. The next moment he was laying her next to her compatriot, Drew's, body as if laying her to rest. Drew had been shot in the neck and was long dead. Vaas looked back at his very confused and very short staffed crew, realizing he'd asked them to bring Drew's body to this exact spot.

The same spot where Jason became Jason. He stood back and watched Ruth intensely. She seemed only asleep.

"Vaas? What should we do?" A voice behind him asked.

"Bury the dead, leave me alone," He replied without moving a muscle to face them.

* * *

Vaas waited for hours, feeling everything come into place as he watched her. She finally came to, slowly realizing her surroundings. He was patient, crouching down near her with an expressionless face.

Ruth saw Drew and whatever had snapped in her before snapped again. She held his head to hers, broken with grief.

This was it. Vaas knew it would only work now when she was in this state. He stood up and aimed a pistol at her head. "I'm gonna give you thirty seconds, and if the jungle doesn't eat you up alive... I will."

Ruth got up to her feet, holding her arm, and stared at him.

"Well what are you fucking waiting for? Get the fuck out of here."

There was another palpable moment of silence, and then Ruth turned and left, only running after she broke his line of sight. Vaas felt his certainty vanish suddenly, questioning himself. Last time he let someone dangerous go they came back and almost killed him. But he'd decided. That connection he had with Jason, whatever it was, he missed it, craved it. Ruth was nothing like Jason though, she'd already been dragged through hell, and was probably more dangerous. Maybe a part of Vaas wanted it to end.

He mentally beat himself for thinking that. He was fucking invincible and none of his other vices had killed him. By the time he convinced himself that it wasn't possible, Ruth had collapsed in a ditch and felt her mind slip away from her.


End file.
